Thorns of Rosewood

by G M Barlean

  “Good for you!” Tanya clapped her hands together when she heard Gloria’s news.

  “It’s just lunch. I’m sure I’m making too much of it.” Gloria felt her cheeks turning red.

  “Be cool. But if he doesn’t take the bait, no big deal.” Betty shrugged. “Guys are a dime a dozen.”

  “Be yourself. It will win him over.” Josie patted Gloria’s arm.

  “Time’s wasting, girls. We’re old. We could die soon. Someone better get back to telling this story before we all keel over.” Debbie pulled a cigarette out and lit up.

  So much for Gloria’s shining moment. But the story was what she’d come for. It looked like Betty had positioned herself to talk. At this point, Gloria could read these characters like a book.

  Betty Talks to Hank—1974

  My nerves were on edge. The four days between Mari’s death and her funeral seemed to evaporate into the humidity of the Nebraska summer.

  Josie checked on Tanya every day and let me know how things were going. From what Josie told me, Tanya was holding up, but just barely.

  I had my hands full with Debbie. I knew all of us friends were closer than sisters, but for some reason, Debbie’s rage seemed all-consuming.

  I went in to work Monday to find the Closed sign hanging on the door. Hank was always at the office a solid hour before I arrived. He hadn’t even called me, which set off alarm bells in my brain. Could he be in grief, too? Hell, the whole town was—Mari had been well loved, but still. Hank?

  Besides, my workaholic boss would never fail to come in without giving me notice. Something must have happened to him. I wondered if the something might be a someone… like Judge Doug Talbot. Time to pay Naomi’s husband a visit. The courthouse sat right across the street, so I walked over.

  When I entered the Office of the District Court, everyone looked up with worried eyes. Connie wore a haggard expression. They’d have to hire someone to replace Mari—not that Mari could ever be replaced.

  I glanced over to the Judge’s office. His door was shut.

  “Is Judge Talbot available?” I asked.

  Connie shook her head but otherwise didn’t respond. Her eyes veered over my shoulder and widened. I turned around and found myself face-to-face with someone I hadn’t seen in years. At first I didn’t quite recognize him, but somewhere in his eyes, I saw a child I had once known.

  “Douglas?” I stepped back and stared at Junior. He looked plenty worse for wear. Long, dirty hair and bell-bottom jeans with frayed hems and holes at the knees. His T-shirt clung to his chest, displaying a Hamm’s Beer logo, and judging by the reek, he had partaken of it or something akin.

  Junior didn’t answer. He edged past me, bumping my shoulder as he passed, and went into his father’s office without knocking. Before he disappeared behind the closed door, I noticed his right hand was bandaged around the knuckles.

  I turned to question Connie, but before I could ask anything, she offered a whisper and put up three fingers. “Third time this morning he’s been here, Betty. He doesn’t talk. Just goes into his dad’s office.”

  “What’s going on? Where did he come from?” I whispered back.

  “We don’t have a clue, but the Judge is plenty upset. It’s going to be a long day.”

  I decided to get the hell out of there. The world had clearly spun off its axis. Mari was dead, Doug Junior had returned from hell knows where, and my workaholic boss hadn’t come in to work today. I needed to go check on Hank Meyer.

  Hank’s wife was pulling away as I drove up to their house. The scowl on her face told me the woman was doing more than just going shopping. I parked in the driveway, walked up to the door, and knocked. I rang the bell, knocked several times more, and was about to leave when the door creaked open. Hank stood in the shadows. He had a hat and sunglasses on and his hand covered his mouth.

  “Hank? Is everything okay?” I asked.

  “Fine,” he said as he began to shut the door.

  I’d worked for Hank Meyer for years and kept his secrets to boot. He wasn’t about to get off so easily.

  “Hank… what is going on?” I put my hand on the door and pushed it back open.

  He allowed me in but turned his back to me.

  “Hank?” I tried to move in front of him, but he continued to turn away from me. “Hank.” I put my hands on my hips. “Tell me what in the hell is wrong, right this minute.”

  He turned to face me, moved his hand away from his mouth, and revealed purple, swollen lips. He took off his sunglasses to expose two eyes almost swollen shut and a cut along his temple. He looked down in embarrassment, then raised his eyes to mine.

  “I had hoped the whole town wouldn’t find out about this.” He tried to smile but winced in pain.

  I opened my mouth to ask the obvious but waited instead.

  He took a deep sigh. “You know about Naomi and me.” He crossed his arms over his chest.

  I nodded.

  “Well, now Naomi’s husband and son do, too.” He pointed at his smashed-up face. “And so does my wife, unfortunately.” Hank motioned toward the driveway where I had seen Mrs. Hank. I had been right. She wasn’t off to buy a new pair of shoes.

  Hank went into the living room and collapsed into an overstuffed chair.

  I followed him but remained standing. “I saw your wife leaving. She looked upset.”

  “Leaving me for good, she said.” Hank leaned his elbow on the arm of the chair and rubbed his forehead, then winced in pain again.

  “Can you blame her?” I spoke my mind. I would have liked to think he was a broken man, but what I saw was a man caught. Not guilt as much as irritation about the mess he now had to deal with. “So you decided not to go into the office today?”

  “I can’t be seen like this. You go in. Open up and take the phone calls. Cancel everything for the next several days. I have to do damage control here. Let things blow over. I should have called you, but…” He swept his hand around the room as if I could see and hear the arguments that had occurred over the last twenty-four hours.

  Before I left him to deal with his sordid affairs, I asked, “So who kicked your ass, Hank?”

  His eyes went dark. “The son. Doug Junior. Bastard blindsided me in the street last night when I got out of my car. Didn’t even give me a fighting chance. It was like he was psycho or something. I guess the rumors about him are true. He must have been high as a kite. He screamed on and on about his mom… I was terrified.”

  You had it coming, you scumbag was what I thought.

  Watching him cry like a little girl on the ground was what I imagined.

  “Weird” is what I said.

  The color left his face. “If Judge Talbot hadn’t shown up, I could be dead. He pulled the kid off me.”

  I felt no empathy for the coward in front of me. If Naomi’s son beat the living hell out of his mother’s lover, more power to him. I suspected Doug stopped the process because he was worried about legal issues, not about Hank Meyer’s safety.

  “I’ll keep the office fires at a slow burn while you recuperate.” I left the room and the pathetic home wrecker behind. I had things to do, like ordering flowers for Mari’s funeral and checking in on Debbie. The office could stay closed for another hour or two. What would he do… fire me? I suspected with what I knew, I had job security for the rest of my natural life.

  Chapter 20

  As Gloria listened to Betty talk about Naomi’s cheating, she couldn’t help but wonder why she was so excited about having a date. Would she be cheating on Ronnie in ten years? Or would he be cheating on her?

  “What are you thinking about, Gloria?” Betty asked.

  “Marriage,” Gloria answered.

  Maybe I should cancel the date. I don’t even know the guy’s phone number. I could ask Mabel, but the idea of involving her gives me more anxiety. She’ll want to know why I want his number. She’ll try to talk me out of it.

  Debbie yelled and snapped her fingers in Gloria’s face. �
��Gloria!”

  “What?” She jolted.

  “Pay attention. I’m going to tell you about the funeral now.”

  Debbie Deals With Death—1974

  Mari’s family gathered in the cemetery. I sat in silence behind the steering wheel, staring through my windshield at them. The car’s motor ran quietly, cold air gusting from the vents. The little tree air freshener fluttered in the breeze. A tear rolled down my cheek, but I caught it before it touched my chapped lips. I sure as hell didn’t want anyone to see me cry. I opened the door and a rush of heat and humidity pushed at me. I straightened, then walked through the grass, making my way around the tombstones.

  “We’re gathered here to lay to rest…” I shut out the minister’s voice. He had said a lot during Mari’s funeral, but none of it gave me comfort. He didn’t know how Mari really died.

  Searching the sea of faces, I found Josie’s. She looked up as though my glance had physically touched her. Our eyes connected and a fresh tear streaked down her face. I looked away.

  Tanya stood at Josie’s side. She blew her nose, her shoulders shuddered, and pain wracked her expression. It looked like she hadn’t slept since the night Mari died. She kept shaking her head and covering her face with both hands.

  Betty came and stood by me. “Look at poor Tanya,” she whispered.

  “Yeah. She’s a mess.” I forgot to whisper and an old woman in front of us turned and scolded me with a glare. I made a face at her, crossed my arms, and stayed quiet until the burial ceremony finished.

  As family and friends dispersed, the four of us gathered at the edge of the cemetery. Josie folded and refolded her handkerchief, which was trimmed in little purple flowers, every sigh deep and filled with sorrow.

  Betty rubbed her shoulder. “You okay, Josie?”

  Josie nodded, but her sobs became louder and she clutched at Betty’s hand.

  “Oh, here we go again.” Tanya began to wail at the sound of Josie’s outburst. She shook her head. “If you cry, it makes me cry… you know that.”

  “I know. I can’t help it.” Josie sobbed and she and Tanya held on to each other.

  Betty wrapped her long arms around both of them, and I watched, blowing smoke into the air and sweating in the hundred-degree heat. It felt so weird to be a group of four instead of five.

  “Any of you going to the dinner at the church?” I asked.

  “No. I can’t take any more of this.” Josie shook her head emphatically and Tanya echoed the sentiment.

  Betty wiped her hair from her sweating forehead. “I’m not up for it, either.”

  We stared in silence as the people trailed away from the cemetery. The cars made a long line, going to the funeral dinner in the Presbyterian Church basement.

  “How ’bout we go to my place and have a few drinks? It’ll calm our nerves.” I flicked my cigarette and the ash floated away on a slight breeze that blew past.

  We nodded and went to our cars. Then we drove out of the cemetery, turned the opposite direction of the masses, and made our own funeral procession to my little house on the edge of town.

  At my place, the women filed in and sat down in steel-and-vinyl chairs around my gray Formica table. From the cupboard, I brought down a bottle of whiskey and grabbed four juice glasses.

  Tanya objected first. “Oh, wait a minute, now. I can’t drink that.”

  “I’d rather have a beer.” Josie made a face.

  Betty didn’t argue.

  I set down the hooch with a thud in the center of the table, poured a healthy shot for each of us, shoved a glass toward each woman, then held up my own. “We’re going to drink to Mari.” I stared at Josie and Tanya until they conceded.

  They both gazed at the amber liquid and picked up their glasses with hesitant fingers, their faces filled with dread. I gave them a nod of approval.

  “Here’s to Mari Brent. She was our friend. We loved her. May God rest her soul.” I put the glass to my lips and tilted my head, knocking back the generous shot of Tennessee Whiskey. It burned, but not as badly as my anger.

  Tanya drank, shook her head, and clutched her throat. Josie coughed. I poured another shot and pushed the glasses back to their owners.

  “No,” Tanya whined, but Josie grabbed her glass, jaw set.

  “Raise your glasses one more time, girls. This time we drink to Naomi Talbot.”

  At the sound of Naomi’s name, Tanya pushed back her chair and jumped up. “No, Debbie, I will not drink to her. I won’t do it.”

  I had never seen such fury in Tanya’s eyes. “Good, Tanya. You should be mad. That’s what we need. And you’re right. I’d never make a toast to that whore. But I do want to make a promise.”

  Tanya’s eyes lit with understanding.

  We stood and held our glasses of alcohol with trembling fingers, then clinked them together.

  I began, “Naomi Talbot will not get away with murder.”

  The women’s faces turned dark red and their knuckles went white. They nodded, keeping their eyes on me as I continued.

  “We will be fierce. We will make her confess. And she will pay for what she’s done. We will stop at nothing to get revenge.” I knocked back the whiskey, poured another glass, and drained it too, then staggered out through the screen door. It banged shut behind me. I sat down heavily on the front step and finally allowed myself to cry.

  Choking back sobs, I thought about my troubled childhood. My drunken mom hadn’t cared if I had decent shoes or money for school lunch. She hadn’t helped me with homework or tucked me in at night. But Mari and her mother had helped me for years, and they did it so quietly that no one ever knew. No one knew how many meals I ate at Mari’s house or how she made sure to bring an extra sandwich in her sack lunch for school field trips. Bags of clothes showed up on the front steps… these same steps I was sitting on. Mari and her mother gave me so much, but Mari’s acceptance gave me a group of friends. Because of her, I had decent women who kept me on the straight and narrow.

  I dropped my face into my hands and soaked my fingers with tears.

  The screen door opened quietly. Betty sat down on the steps beside me. She put her arm around my shoulders and waited in silence.

  I straightened up, swiped away the tears with the back of my hand, and stared straight ahead. “Did you know Mari used to help me with my homework so I could pass?” I had never told a soul.

  “No, but it sounds like something she would have done.” Betty’s low voice comforted me.

  “She never judged me, you know. She was like snow and I was dirt, but she always made me feel equal.”

  “Mari always played fair.” Betty hugged me close. “And you weren’t dirt, Debbie. We all love you and always have.”

  “Thank you, but Mari… she really changed my life. I owe her.” I took a deep breath.

  I was done crying. My anger had settled back in to stay.

  Betty’s grip on my shoulder tightened. “You’re right—what you said in there. Naomi has to pay for what she’s done.”

  I stared into Betty’s eyes and gritted my teeth. “If it’s the last thing I do, I will make Naomi confess. No way is she going to get away with murder.” And I meant it. Naomi Talbot was lucky that’s all I had in mind.

  Chapter 21

  Gloria sat mesmerized, listening. Debbie slumped in her chair, her wrinkles seeming deeper than they’d looked before. Funny how people can remember every ill done to them like it was yesterday, but yet forget the simple joys. Debbie could obviously still become agitated by the mere memory of losing Mari.

  Betty cleared her throat. “I think I’ll tell the next part.”

  Gloria nodded and flipped the page of her notebook.

  Betty Takes the Lead—1974

  “You have to talk to the police, Tanya. You have to tell them what Mari said and what you saw. If you don’t, Naomi gets away with this.”

  I tried to keep my wits about me. Debbie and I had returned to the table in her kitchen. The shots of whiskey w
ere making my head float, but they had done Debbie in. She was sleeping at the table, head pillowed on her arms.

  I made coffee.

  Josie dug a bottle of Tylenol out of her purse and we all put out our hands like children asking for candy. “It’s true, Tanya. Betty’s right. You have to do it. We’ll go with you.” Josie went to the sink to wash down her pills with water. She pushed the bottle of whiskey sitting on the counter as far away from her as she could.

  Tanya rocked back and forth in the chair, holding herself. “I know I have to do it, but darn it, I’m scared to death. If the police don’t arrest Naomi, I’ll be on the witch’s hit list.”

  “Over my dead body!” Debbie shouted.

  I started and so did the others. Debbie had been dozing in a quiet stupor since I brought her in from the front step. But the mention of Naomi’s name brought her out of her whiskey-induced daze. I put my hand on her shoulder. Her eyes closed and she nodded back off to sleep.

  “We’ll all go together tomorrow. We don’t have a choice. This has to be reported and Naomi is obviously not going to step forward. She’s had enough time.” I didn’t leave room for argument.

  The next morning, I picked everyone up around eight. Debbie sat in the back seat, a dark pair of sunglasses covering her bloodshot eyes. She stared out the side window of the car. I knew not to try to start a conversation with her when she was hungover. Josie climbed in the back with Debbie. It was the one thing she held in common with her mom—she was an argumentative drunk and a bear when suffering a hangover. Tanya took shotgun.

  “You ready?” I asked Tanya.

  “No, Betty, I am not ready.” Tanya looked like she was about to cry and her voice wavered.

  “Stop it.” Debbie barked from the back seat. “No more crying. Don’t waste tears on the she-devil.”

  I watched Tanya bite back her fear and nod her head.

  At the Rosewood Police Station, I bent down and whispered to the dispatcher, “We need to visit with someone about a murder.”